


Courage and Kindness

by subtlehysteria



Series: Cinderella AU [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Fluff, Lance (Voltron) as Cinderella, M/M, Prince Keith (Voltron), so much fluff!, these boys are so gone for one another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: They’d been travelling for well over three weeks before reaching the little country house on the outskirts of the village. Sendak was staying true to his word, leaving no stone unturned in search of the Blue Boy.My Blue Boy, Keith thinks with a quiet sigh. He’d made a promise to himself: he was going to find this boy, no matter what. And if that meant disguising himself as a guard and taking orders from Sendak then so be it.*Keith goes in search of the mystery boy from the ball. But with only a glass earpiece to go by, will Keith make it in time before he has to choose a husband to be?





	Courage and Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pagogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pagogo/gifts).



> I can finally post this! 
> 
> I'm sorry for the radio silence guys, school has eaten away all of my time but I'm finally on holiday so I was able to sit down and finish this final part of the Cinderella AU
> 
> I wanted to say from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this series, for leaving kudos and such sweet comments that always make me smile. I never thought I'd end up writing a full series for what started out as a one-shot but I'm so glad I did. I've loved writing this AU so much, it always manages to make me smile and cry (happy tears) as I see these two wayward boys slowly coming together. 
> 
> A special shoutout to Pagogo whose encouraging words always made my day, and to [Kiilea on Tumblr](http://kiilea.tumblr.com/tagged/cinderella-au), whose art inspired this series. I highly recommend you go check out their art, it's breathtaking!
> 
> So, without further ado, the final instalment of the Klance Cinderella AU

They’d been travelling for well over three weeks before reaching the little country house on the outskirts of the village. Sendak was staying true to his word, leaving no stone unturned in search of the Blue Boy.

 _My Blue Boy_ Keith thinks with a quiet sigh. He’d made a promise to himself: he was going to find this boy, no matter what. And if that meant disguising himself as a guard and taking orders from Sendak then so be it.

Sendak may be a duke, but that gave Keith no reason to trust him. So far, however, he’d behaved. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get Sendak to even agree in seeking out the Blue Boy. Keith still shivers at the memory, at the idea of having to marry a woman he barely knows if they never find the mystery prince from the ball.

_That’s not going to happen. I will find him._

“What’s the matter, Captain?” Sendak calls. Keith looks ahead to where Shiro and Sendak are leading the party. The two men may, at first, appear similar, both with battle scars from the war – military men through and through – but where Sendak holds an insatiable love for the militia, for the power and glory, Shiro only regards it with the respect he feels it deserves. Shiro had come back from the war a changed man. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Sometimes Keith could hear his screams from across the hall, would rush to Shiro’s bedside to find him covered in cold sweat, body curled up into a ball as if preparing for a bomb to go off.

It was nights like these that made Keith feel useless. He was a prince, now a king, and yet he could do nothing for his friend except endeavour to never lead his kingdom into another war. He would not see his men like this. No one deserves to be haunted by phantom pains and tears for lost friends.

“One should always be prepared for the worst,” Thace would say, “But do everything in their power to never let it come about. Do what is right by your people, Keith. Never stop fighting for them, but also never stop fighting for yourself as well.”

Keith takes a moment to steady his breathing, blinking up the wayward tears prickling his eyes. It has been nearly a month since his uncle’s passing, and yet still Keith swears he only saw him yesterday smiling into his teacup or wiping his brow after a one-on-one sparring session.

Would he be proud of Keith, now? Knowing he was taking the time to search for the Blue Boy rather than settling with Princess Allura? Or would he be disappointed in Keith’s selfishness, for surely that was what Keith was being?

“We haven’t found the mystery prince yet,” Shiro replies, bringing Keith out of his reverie. He can hear the dejectedness in Shiro’s voice.

“Do not fret yourself, Captain,” Sendak says, sounding far too chipper for Keith’s liking. “There is still one more house.”

One more house. The last house.

This was the make-it-or-break-it moment. If the boy wasn’t here then Keith would have to marry Princess Allura. That was the deal, even though Keith hated it. He could tell the princess of Altea was just as uninterested him as he was with her. It was not that she was a terrible person. For the short time they had conversed at the ball, they had actually managed to hold a decent conversation. She had seemed like the only unpretentious person on the balcony filled with potential marriage partners.

But they wouldn’t work. Not like that. As allies, perhaps… Keith would have to think on that a little more once he eventually returns to the castle. But for now, the house. The final candidate to try on the earpiece.

Keith had been worried at first. Surely the earpiece would fit someone other than the Blue Boy? However, when the first candidate had tried it on, the earpiece had glowed a dark red and the man had exclaimed that it was burning him.

Suffice to say, it made the search a little easier.

The country house was quaint, almost something out of a fairytale; vines crawling up the walls, flowers littered everywhere in the garden. A gaggle of geese run across the clean-cut lawn towards a fountain, splashing happily in the bubbling water. Keith expects a fairy or two to poke their heads out from the underbrush, but alas, they do not appear.

As they start down the narrow path leading to the country house, Keith couldn’t help his wandering eyes towards the clump of trees off to the side. They could very easily lead to a glade with summer sunshine and forget-me-nots; of shy smiles and determination. As they rounded the corner, Keith spotted a stable adjacent to the cottage. If he looked in there, would he find a silver-blue mare like the boy’s horse from that day? Keith desperately wanted to look, but he couldn’t break rank. Not as a common soldier.

Sendak and Shiro come to a stop just outside the stairs leading to the front door. The rest of the soldiers follow suit, like dominos falling into place one after the other. Keith clicks his tongue, digging his heels in lightly when his horse continues pushing forward. Red and he had a special bond Keith could not explain. It was like they shared one mind and soul whilst riding. Keith never had to tell Red where to go, he just knew.

This horse, on the other hand, was barely out of training. She was clumsy, didn’t know left from right and frankly, had a terrible attitude. And coming from Keith, that was saying something.

“Private!” Sendak barks, “Keep that horse in check!”

“Yes, Grand Duke!” Keith responds, pitching his voice low.

Shiro looks back, cocking an eyebrow. Keith only shrugs.

The double doors to the cottage open, revealing a spindly woman in a deep purple dress. Keith squints, trying to make her out in the distance. Perhaps at one point, she had been beautiful. There were still traces here and there in the prominence of her cheekbones, the soft curve of her jaw leading down to a slender neck. But the thin press of her lips, the too-thin eyebrows and sallow cheeks showed her age, no matter how much powder she bore to cover it up.

She attempts what Keith assumes is supposed to be a welcoming smile, her teeth glistening in the late-morning sunshine. Keith tries not to grimace.

“Grand Duke,” the woman rasps, curtseying low.

“Madam Honerva,” Sendak says, giving her a nod. Honerva returns his look, a glint in her eye.

“Are there any eligible young men to try on the earpiece?” Shiro asks. One look at his face and Keith can tell he is thinking the same thing. Something is not right.

“Just the one,” Honerva says, “my son. He is waiting in the drawing room.”

“Well then,” Sendak says, dismounting. “Let us see if your son is, in fact, the mystery prince.”

Sendak sounds far too into this. It almost feels like Keith is watching a melodrama at a local theatre.

Shiro dismounts as well, following Sendak up the stairs leading to the front door. The case holding the earpiece is tucked in his breast pocket for safe keeping. Keith had specified that only Shiro may carry the earpiece. He didn’t know if Sendak would stoop so low as to pretend to have lost it, or maybe replace it with a fake, but all the same, Keith was unwilling to take that chance. Keith trusts Shiro with his life, and he knows he will take good care of the earpiece while it is out of his possession.

Shiro sends one final look in Keith’s direction before disappearing into the house.

 

*

 

Shiro doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit.

Sendak looks far too smug like he knows something Shiro doesn’t. And he keeps sharing knowing looks with Honerva. Do they know one another? But Shiro would have seen the two of them together at the ball if they did, unless… unless they spoke while Shiro went in search of Keith at the king’s demand.

“Here he is,” Honerva says, gliding into the drawing room, her arms sweeping wide to indicate a young man on one of the settees.

Shiro already knows this isn’t the boy. He is tanned, yes, but his hair is long, nearly reaching his waist even though it is tied back neatly with a black ribbon. He does not resemble the boy Shiro had only caught a glimpse of that day in the forest, of the boy Keith has described repeatedly with such care and fondness. He does not see kind blue eyes or a soft smile. He does not see dirt on his face meaning a hard day’s work. It was quite the opposite in fact. This man is clean, almost _too_ clean as if he’d never picked up a broom in his life, let alone knew how to use one.

The man bows, his white-blonde hair nearly touching the ground. “An honour Grand Duke. Captain,” he says, words slow and well annunciated as if he’d practised them to perfection.

“Lotor, I believe?” Sendak says.

The man straightens, gives a warm smile Shiro almost believes. “Yes.”

“Well then,” Sendak says. “Captain, if you would do the honours?”

Shiro falters for a moment. For the first time in a long time, he does not feel safe. He wishes Keith were with him. Keith he could trust, not just as his king, but as his friend. As his blood brother. But Keith is waiting outside with the rest of the soldiers, his future in Shiro’s hands, in the little velvet box burning a hole in his breast pocket. Shiro would have to face this alone.

Shiro takes a deep breath, ignoring Honerva’s calculating gaze as he starts towards Lotor. Shiro stands opposite him, the two men meeting eye to eye. Lotor only has an inch or two over him and yet Shiro feels like an ant with the way Lotor is looking down on him.

“Sir, please take a seat,” Shiro says.

Lotor obliges, perching on the edge of the settee.

Shiro kneels before him, taking out the velvet box. He cracks open the lid, carefully extracting the glass earpiece from its cushion. In his peripheral, he can see Lotor’s eyes widen with a want so dark, it shoots ice down Shiro’s spine.

“If you would present your right ear,” Shiro says, trying to mask his discomfort with this whole situation. He’s never felt so scrutinized before.

Lotor does so, tucking his hair behind his right ear.

Shiro leans forward, bringing the earpiece towards the shell of Lotor’s ear. He is about to slip it on when it begins to glow a deep red.

Shiro extracts his hand, the glass immediately returning to its neutral blue.

“What’s the matter?” Lotor asks, his question innocent, but his tone bordering on demanding.

“Uh,” Shiro says, looking to Sendak. Sendak says nothing, giving no indication of what Shiro should do.

_Great._

“The earpiece –”

“Yes, the one in your hand. The one you have yet to place on my ear,” Lotor drawls.

Honerva gives a harsh click of her tongue. Lotor immediately goes quiet, his shoulders hunching slightly.

“I’m sorry about my son,” Honerva says, “he gets excited very easily.”

“No problem at all, Madam,” Shiro mumbles, turning back to Lotor. With a resigned sigh, he once again brings the earpiece up to Lotor’s ear.

_Here goes nothing._

It starts burning his fingertips before he’s even finished placing it on Lotor’s ear.

“Sir, I –”

“Oh, let me do it,” Lotor says, slapping Shiro’s hand away and securing the earpiece.

“There!” he exclaims, turning a grin to his mother. “It fits like a –”

Lotor doesn’t finish his sentence. He is too busy screaming.

“Get it off! GET IT OFF!”

Shiro lunges for the earpiece, following Lotor as he writhes left and right in pain.

“I would if you would hold still!” Shiro grits out.

Honerva strides forward, ignoring Shiro as she pinches her son’s ear between two spindly fingers.

Lotor continues to blubber, but stays still as Honerva carefully slips the earpiece off his ear, laying it in her palm. It still pulses a deep red, smoking slightly.

“Thank you, Madam,” Shiro says, extending his open palm.

Honerva ponders the earpiece for a moment before finally meeting Shiro’s eyes. Slowly, she tips the earpiece into his awaiting palm, withdrawing her hand.

“Thank you,” Shiro says again, tucking the earpiece back in its case as swiftly as possible.

Lotor is still busy whining in the background, and whilst Shiro does feel bad for the boy, he can't help but feel that he had what was coming to him. He’d refused to listen and hence had to pay the price.

“I am sorry, Madam Honerva,” Sendak says, sounding anything but.

“It is quite alright, Grand Duke,” Honerva says with a sickly-sweet smile. “Whilst my son may not be the next prince, I feel luck may still be on our side.”

Sendak gives her a wicked grin. Shiro’s spine turns rigid, his hand unconsciously reaching for the sword at his hip.

“Well, Captain. Shall we be heading off?” Sendak says, his grin disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Yes,” Shiro says, a quiet sense of relief rolling off his shoulders. The sooner he gets out of this house, the better.

Honerva leads them back to the entrance hall, leaving her son to clean his own wound. “It is only a small burn,” she drawls. “He will be fine.”

The blatant disregard for her son makes Shiro’s stomach broil, but he says nothing of it.

Shiro breathes a small sigh of relief as they exit the house, even when the residant house cat takes a swipe at his shins. His relief immediately shrivels however when he meets Keith’s pleading eyes. Shiro shakes his head. Keith visibly wilts.

“Captain? Do you wish to stand here all day?” Sendak says, making his way down the stairs.

“Sorry, Grand Duke,” Shiro says. “I am just admiring the gardens.”

“Yes, well, the palace has an extensive number of gardens you can peruse. But now we must –”

_“Arrorró mi niño,_

_arrorró mi sol,_

_arrorró pedazo,_

_de mi corazón.”_

 

Shiro stops in his tracks, ears perking at the sound. “Do you hear that, your Grace?”

Sendak swallows thickly. “No, Captain,” he says, voice gruff. “We really should be –”

“No, wait,” Shiro says, holding his hand up. He closes his eyes, trying to find the source of the sound.

 

_“Este niño lindo_

_Ya quiere dormir,_

_Háganle la cuna_

_De rosa y jazmín.”_

 

 _Singing_ Shiro realizes. _Someone is singing._

Shiro turns to Honerva, who is in the process of closing the doors. “Madam, are you sure there are no other boys that reside with you?”

Honerva fumbles, her keen eyes peeking out from the small crack between the doors. “None,” she says, looking to Sendak.

Sendak avoids eye contact, his head ducking low.

Shiro smiles placidly. “Then has your cat learned to sing?” he asks, nodding towards the house cat who hisses in response.

Honerva hesitates a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles so fake, they were bordering on hysterical. “Oh, Captain. You jest!”

“Captain Shirogane,” Sendak says. “I insist we leave now –”

“Grand Duke.”

All three of them turn their attention to the group of soldiers still waiting diligently on their horses. Keith takes off his uniform hat and cloak, letting both fall unceremoniously to the ground.

Sendak bristles before quickly bowing. “Your Highness,” he says.

Behind him, Shiro can hear a quiet gasp. No doubt Honerva was not suspecting royalty to visit her humble abode. He could only imagine the look on her face.

“That song,” Keith says, looking up towards the house. “I’d say it was Spanish, wouldn’t you Shiro?”

“If my memory of languages serves me correctly, yes,” Shiro says. They share a grin.

“Shall we investigate?” Keith says, dismounting from his horse. Shiro is already one step ahead of him, turning back to Honerva and opening the doors fully before she can shut them.

“Madam, if you would be so kind as to lead me to wherever this boy is?”

“What boy?” Honerva says, “There is only my son and the scullery boy, as I told you.”

“I have to disagree, madam,” Shiro says, his voice turning stern. “You never mentioned a scullery boy.”

Honerva stammers, her hands fidgeting with the set of keys at her waist.

“Grand Duke, did you know about this?” Shiro asks.

“Not at all,” Sendak huffs. “I barely know this woman.”

“Liar!”

Everyone turns to the drawing room doorway, where Lotor stands with a cloth to his ear.

“Lotor,” Honerva starts.

“Liar!” he exclaims again, ignoring his mother. “I overheard you and my mother speaking that night you came. I know of the deal you made.”

“What deal?” Keith says, pushing his way to Lotor. Lotor baulks at the sight of the king, his words coming out rushed and half-formed.

“Th-they made a-a deal, your-your highness. That i-if the earpiece did-didn’t fit, that we wou-would my mother, she, she would be made a countess. And I wou-would be given an ad-advantagoues marriage. You-your highness.” Lotor finishes off his rambling with a low bow, his forehead nearly colliding with the floor.

“Is that so, Grand Duke?” Keith says, directing his unwavering gaze to the now very silent Duke.

Shiro looks to the man in question and nearly huffs a laugh. Sendak looks downright petrified.

“Shiro,” Keith says, never taking his eyes off of Sendak. “Would you please go retrieve the boy with Madam Honerva. I would like a talk with the Duke.”

Shiro nods, holding back a grin. “Of course, Ke- Your Majesty.”

Keith nods, the corner of his lips twitching just slightly.

“Madam,” Shiro says, making a sweeping gesture to the stairs. “If you would lead the way?”

Honerva says nothing, her grasp on her keys tightening until her knuckles turn white. “Yes, Captain,” she says, brusque, without meeting his eyes.

As they walk towards the stairs, they pass Lotor. Honerva says nothing, but the look she gives him is enough to make Lotor turn pale as a sheet.

 

*

 

Lance has no clue who is at the door, and frankly, he does not care.

He is tired and hungry, Honerva only feeding him a plate of buttered bread once a day. He can feel his strength is waning, but, he can’t help the feeling of bliss that overwhelms him too.

He has had a lot of time to think whilst being locked up in the attic. About his family; his mama and her tinkling laugh, his father’s kind eyes and days spent in the garden searching for Fair Folk. About walks in the moonlight to secret childhood gardens with a tree swing. About violins and golden chandeliers, a callused hand in his as his feet sweep across a marble dance floor.

He sits at the window, singing his mother’s lullaby and allowing the memories to flood him with warmth and happiness. He’d written down every detail of that night at the ball as well as the day they had met in the forest glade. Perhaps one day he could visit that very spot, relish the sunshine and the distant memory of the sound of Keith’s voice.

He would never forget those indigo eyes, how they crinkle in the corners when Keith laughs, nor the arch of his brow when Lance makes a smart retort. He would always remember those precious moments with not the prince, but the apprentice Keith.

 

_“Arrorró mi niño,_

_arrorró mi sol,_

_arrorró pedazo,_

_de mi corazón.”_

 

The mice, who had been Lance’s constant companions throughout this all, are trying to open the window. Why Lance has no clue. Chulatt, Plachu and Chuchule all dangle off the handle, clinging to one another. Lance is about to reach forward and help them when Platt joins the party, jumping up and clinging to the mouse pile. His added weight does the trick and the window swings open wide enough to allow a cool breeze into the room.

Lance smiles down at his friends, tickling Platt as he continues his singing.

 

_“Esta leche linda_

_que le traigo aquí,_

_es para este niño,_

_que se va a dormir.”_

 

He is about to start the final verse when he hears the jangling of keys.

Funny, Honerva only brings his meal at supper time. So why –

The door opens, Honerva striding into the room. “There, see! As I told you, only the scullery boy. No one of importance.”

A soldier walks through the door behind Honerva, his tuft of white hair shocking amongst the dingy shadows of the attic.

Lance stands, starting forwards. “Shiro?”

Shiro smiles at him, giving a small bow. “Hello again.”

Lance nods, giving a small smile of his own.

Honerva looks between the two, shock evident on her face. Lance would be surprised too if he found out his scullery boy knew the captain of the guard by name.

“Sir,” Shiro says. “You are requested to present yourself before the king downstairs.”

Lance’s breath halts. Keith… Was Keith here?

“I forbid it!” Honerva says, glaring at Lance, her eyes piercing.

“And I forbid you to forbid him!” Shiro snaps. Honerva falters. Silence hangs heavy in the room. “Who are you to give such orders?” Shiro continues. “Are you a goddess, an empress?”

“I am his mother!” Honerva says, so strong, so certain, you’d think she meant it.

“You are not,” Lance starts. Honerva trains her gaze on him, willing him to be quiet. Lance takes a deep breath, straightening to his full height. “You are not, nor will you ever be, my mother,” he says.

Honerva’s eyes widen, her over-plucked eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

“Sir?” Shiro says, indicating to the stairwell.

Lance makes his way to Shiro, the mice following close behind. Honerva grabs his arm, stopping him just short of freedom.

“Remember who you are, you little wretch,” she hisses.

Lance pries her fingers off his arm one by one, resisting the urge to wipe his hands off his pant leg. He is better than that.

Shiro stands, waiting at the doorway, a look of concern on his face. Lance shakes his head. “Do not worry,” he says as he reaches for the door handle. “She can no longer hurt me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Honerva alone with the shadows and dust where she belongs.

 

*

 

Keith is surprised he isn’t breathing fire about now.

He is pacing up and down the entryway, having just finished berating Sendak and ensuring that his title was to be swiftly stripped once they returned to the castle.

Honerva’s son, Lotor, if Keith remembers, still stands in the drawing-room doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide in wonder. Keith ignores the red burn on the top of his right ear.

He turns the earpiece in his hand over and over, the cool touch of the glass soothing. Shiro had given it to him before heading up the stairs in search of the scullery boy. Keith was trying not to get his hopes up, trying not to let his imagination run away with him that this could be it, this could be the place he finds the Blue Boy.

 _You could be wrong,_ a voice whispers in his head. _You might never find him._

Keith shakes his head, doing an about face and walking towards the stairs. What was taking Shiro so long? Was he hurt? Had Honerva done something to him? He wouldn’t put it past her.

He is about to take the first step up when a mud-brown shoe enters his peripheral. Keith peers up the spiral staircase, looking for the owner of the shoe. Slowly, a grey pants leg appears, followed by a pale blue shirt, a freckled collarbone, a soot-covered nose and –

Eyes, blue as the ocean.

Keith stumbles, stepping back to the hardwood floor. He’s here, he’s standing there, right in front of him. The Blue Boy.

The boy looks to Shiro, who gives him an encouraging smile. The boy smiles back before walking down the last set of stairs. He stops a foot away from Keith, just out of reach. He’s still an inch or two taller, covered in soot, his wayward cowlicks freed from the headscarf he’d worn when they first met. He’s here, he’s real and he’s smiling.

“Hello,” the boy says quietly.

“Hello,” Keith says, not knowing what else to say.

Shiro clears his throat, eyes the earpiece in Keith’s hands.

“Oh, um…” Keith fiddles with the earpiece, brushing his thumb over the smooth glass.

“Sir, I –”

“Lance.”

“What?” Keith says, looking up and meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Lance,” the boy repeats. “My name is Lance.”

A sigh escapes Keith’s lips, his chest deflating like a balloon. All the tension of the last three weeks melts away. _Lance_. Yes. It couldn’t be anything else. It’s just… Lance.

“It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful – I mean!” Keith lets out a weak chuckle, hiding behind his hands, the earpiece digging into his cheek. “Sorry, I just. I didn’t think I’d find you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Lance says.

Keith drops his hands, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Of course I would.”

Lance opens his arms, indicating to himself. “Even though this is who I really am? A scullery boy?”

“That’s not who you are,” Keith says, grabbing Lance’s hands before he can think better of it. He holds them, firm, grounding. “You’re a kind, gentle soul with so much love for others that he doesn’t think to love himself too.”

Lance gapes, then, a small, shy smile begins to emerge. “Since when did you get so good at words?”

“Since I met a blue boy with a wicked sense of humour,” Keith replies.

Lance giggles, and it’s like wind chimes on a sunny afternoon.

“How else am I supposed to keep up with you?” Keith continues. He can feel a smile coming on, wants to hold it back. But Lance makes it so difficult.

 _Lance_. It feels so good to finally have a name. It makes him real, dusty hair and well-worn shoes and all.

“Keith, I… Your Highness,” Lance says, eyes trailing down to the floor. “I’m no prince, as you might have gathered.” A small chuckle escapes his lips and Keith relishes in the sound. “I have no fortune, no armies or land besides this place I call home. I am simply a country boy, who –” Lance falters, squeezing Keith’s hands. “A country boy who likes you… a lot.”

Keith shakes his head in amazement, his grin so wide his cheeks ache. Lance gives him a wobbly smile, sniffling. “Can you accept me for who I am?”

“Of course,” Keith says without hesitation. “Of course I do, Lance. But can you accept me?”

Lance’s smile turns into a curious frown, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “What?”

“Can you accept me,” Keith says. “An apprentice who is still learning his trade.”

“A mapprentice,” Lance supplies.

Keith nods. God, he can’t stop smiling. “Yes, a mapprentice.”

Shiro clears his throat, the noise echoing the hallway. Keith sends him a questioning look.

 _The earpiece_ , Shiro mouths, pointing to Keith’s hand.

_Oh, right._

Keith releases Lance’s hands and reveals the earpiece, holding it deliciately between his fingers.

Lance lets out a small gasp, a hand clutching his shirt just above his heart. Keith can see the tears begging to escape from the pools of those dark blue eyes.

“Lance,” he says, quiet, only for his ears, “may I?”

Lance nods, inclining his head so Keith can reach. Keith brushes away a strand of hair, tucking it behind Lance’s ear before securing the earpiece in place. It does not turn red, it does not burn Keith’s fingers. If anything, it shines even brighter, the light from the windows hitting it just right and causing a cascade of colours to dance across the floor.

Lance pulls back, just enough for their eyes to meet.

“It fits,” Lance says.

“You sound surprised,” Keith replies.

Lance shrugs, his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t think this could happen. That I could, that we could possibly –”

Keith takes Lance’s hands once more, bringing them to lips to give his knuckles a gentle kiss. Tears begin to streak down Lance’s cheeks, but he is smiling so brightly and he looks so beautiful standing there in a pool of sunlight and colour. Keith kisses each individual knuckle, before leaning forward, pressing his forehead lightly to Lance’s. Lance leans into the touch with a shaky sigh.

“Your Highness –”

“Keith,” Keith says. “Please call me Keith.”

“Keith,” Lance whispers and Keith didn’t think the sound of his own name could send shivers down his spine but he was wrong, he was so, so wrong.

“What do we do now?” Lance asks. Keith pulls back, looking up into Lance’s blue, blue eyes. “Well, I’d like to get to know you a little more,” he says.

“That's a start," Lance says with a chuckle. “And then?”

“And then,” Keith says, “Perhaps court you... if you’d allow me.”

Lance giggles, nodding his head. “I might, yes.”

“And then,” Keith says, bumping his nose lightly to Lance’s.

“And then?” Lance prompts, his eyes searching Keith’s, drinking him in.

Keith’s leaning in and Lance is too and his freckles are just as beautiful as he remembered. “And then we could –”

“Lance!”

Lance and Keith jump apart, although Lance holds onto Keith’s hand steadfastly.

Lotor walks up to them, stopping just short of too-close.

“Lance,” he says, “my dear brother. I am so sorry.”

Lance considers Lotor, his eyes giving nothing away. Keith can feel the uneasiness rolling off Lance in waves, however. He gives Lance’s hand a gentle squeeze for reassurance. Lance returns it.

“It’s alright,” Lance says finally, barely above a whisper. When it becomes apparent that that is all he is going to say, Lotor steps back, bowing.

“Shall we go?” Keith says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Where?” Lance asks, blinking up at Keith curiously.

 _Cute,_ Keith thinks.

“To the palace,” he says, slowly, gauging Lance’s reaction. He watches as it dawns on Lance, his eyes widening with shock and glee and a little bit of worry as well.

“But –” Lance starts.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Keith says, reassuring him. He would never force Lance to do anything. It was still his decision, whether he wanted to come with Keith or not.

“No, I want to,” Lance says, “It’s just that this is my home. All of my best memories were made here.”

_My mother died when I was quite young, but we still had some beautiful times together before she passed._

“Your mother,” Keith says, finally understanding.

Lance nods, his smile small and sad.

Keith considers this a moment when an idea forms in his mind. “We could visit whenever you want,” he says. “It’s your home. We can come on the weekends or any day we need a break, or when the weather is too good to pass up on a picnic.”

Lance releases a wet laugh, wiping at the tears threating to overflow. “We can?”

“If that’s what you’d like,” Keith says.

Lance bites his lip, looking around the house, the place he has remained faithful to all these years. Finally, his eyes meet Keith’s once more, a sly grin spreading from ear to ear. “We visit every weekend,” he says. “And on Sundays, we have picnics, no matter the weather.”

“And we’ll take the horses to the glade,” Keith says, “And ride bare-back because why not.”

Lance bumps his forehead with Keith's, the both of them smiling like idiots. “Sounds like we have a deal,” Lance says, squeezing Keith’s hand.

At some point, Shiro had joined them at the bottom of the stairs, when Keith couldn't say. He was too busy getting lost in ocean blue eyes.

Shiro claps a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Shall we?” he says.

Once Lance gives the go ahead with a tiny nod, Keith answers with a “Let’s.” He offers his arm to Lance. Lance takes it, leaning into Keith’s side.

They are just about to walk through the doorway when Lance stops. He turns back to the house, gaze intent. Keith follows his line of sight to the spiral staircase where Honerva stands with a vice-like grip on the handrail. It looks as if it's the only thing keeping her up on her feet.

Lance and Honerva share a look. Neither of them backs down until Lance says, calm and clear, “I forgive you.”

Honerva’s regal façade shatters. She crumples in on herself, falling to her knees. Lotor looks away, shame riddling his features.

Lance says nothing more. He turns his back on the people who had mistreated him for so many years with his head held high, leading Keith out the door and to the waiting horses.

Keith helps Lance up onto his horse, settling behind him. Lance takes the reigns, Keith wrapping his hands around Lance’s waist without a second thought.

“Let’s go,” Lance says, sending Keith a smile over his shoulder.

“Lead the way,” Keith replies.

Giving a soft click of the tongue, Lance directs Keith’s horse down the country path, leading the party of soldiers back to the palace.

 

*

 

**6 Months Later**

 

Lance can’t stop running his hands down his jacket, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. It was inspired by what he could remember of his jacket from that night at the ball. White silk overlaid with a sparkling thin chiffon on the shoulders and collar, baby-blue details decorating the cuffs of his sleeves. His breeches are a pale blue, his boots black and polished so much, he can see his reflection in them. He and Keith had bickered about it, Lance not understanding why he couldn’t wear his trusty riding boots.

“Because they don’t fit the dress code,” Keith said, shaking his head. “Trust me, I’d be wearing mine as well if I could. Far more comfortable.”

The seamstress who had been measuring them at the time stuck them both with a pin, saying that it was preposterous for a prince and his fiancé to not dress the part, boots included.

Lance smiles at the memory now.

As if summoned just at the thought, Keith appears at his side. His hair is tied back with a red ribbon, although it does nothing to keep his wayward bangs at bay. Lance had tried to suggest pinning them back but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how Keith blew them out of his eyes with that funny little frown.

“Are you ready?” Keith asks.

Lance looks up at the wall display once more, looking over each painting. There are four in total; on the far left is a portrait of Keith’s parents in the palace gardens, their hands clasped as they walk along the garden path. Hanging on the far right is a painting of Lance’s parents sitting in the drawing room of his childhood home, both with a book in hand, although they only have eyes for each other. The center is shared between a portrait of the late king Thace and a painting of Lance and Keith. They are sitting on a picnic blanket in the garden at Lance’s childhood home, smiling at one another as the sunshine bathes them in a golden glow. It was the moment just before Keith proposed.

Lance turns his gaze to Keith, who is standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He looks handsome in his cream-white coat, the details a deep scarlet red where Lance’s is blue. Keith sends Lance a small smile, somehow still shy after all this time. It is so endearing, Lance can’t help himself when he gives Keith a light peck on the cheek.

“As I’ll ever be,” he says, taking Keith’s hand. He chuckles as Keith’s cheeks turn pink.

“Alright then,” Keith says, leading them towards the balcony. It is a tradition that once the monarch and their betrothed returns from the church, they are to meet the people out on the balcony and share their first kiss as a newly-wed couple. Lance is nervous, for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, there had been a lot of debating when Keith had returned with Lance, his earpiece fit snugly on his ear, that fateful day all those months ago. The court had argued against Keith and Lance’s relationship until their last breath. How could a country boy be any good to the kingdom when he cannot supply land or resources?

Keith had fought tooth and nail for Lance time and time again, both of them proving their merit as they worked towards bringing the kingdom out of war and towards a new age of peace. It also helped that Keith formed an alliance with the land of Altea, Queen Allura more than willing to help rebuild their kingdom and help the people start anew.

Even though Lance had proved himself to the court, there were still days where his stomach coiled with nerves. Could he do this? Could he help Keith rule a kingdom? But then Keith would take his hand, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles and reassure him that together they could achieve anything.

“We make a good team, remember?” Keith would say, to which Lance would nod and they’d share a knowing smile.

Secondly, despite his outgoing nature, crowds could be overwhelming for Lance, especially when he was meant to kiss his husband in front of them.

 _Husband_. That would take a little getting used to.

“Here we go,” Keith says, stepping out onto the balcony. Lance steps alongside him, gasping as the wave of noise from the cheering crowds crash over him. He peeks over the edge of the balcony, smiling at the people who wave up at him eagerly. He waves back.

Feeling a small tug on his hand, Lance looks back to a blushing Keith. His ears are almost as red as his breeches.

Lance closes the distance between them, allowing the noise around them to dissipate into the background until it’s just him and Keith.

Keith lets out a shuddering breath. He looks nervous. Lance doesn’t blame him.

Lance cups Keith’s cheek. Keith hums, immediately leaning into the touch.

“Thank you,” Lance says.

“For what?” Keith asks.

“For being you,” Lance says, his cheeks burning, and not just because of the cold.

“Then I should be thanking you too,” Keith says, his hand resting lightly on the small of Lance’s back.

“For what?”

“For being the honest country boy we all needed,” Keith says. “And the boy that I love.”

Lance ducks his head in embarrassment, but Keith won’t let him hide, tilting his chin up with a guiding finger.

“I love you, Lance,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Keith,” Lance whispers back before leaning in.

The kiss is soft and sweet, so familiar and yet brand new all at once. Because they’re here, they’re married, about to start a whole new journey together. And Lance is both terrified and extremely excited because it means making new memories with the boy he loves. With the apprentice he met in a forest glade when he still wore soot like war paint. With the man he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

The crowd cheers below them, but Lance pays them no mind. He focuses on the here and the now, kissing Keith soundly and peppering him with butterfly kisses after, if only to hear that soft chuckle reserved only for him.

Lance pulls back, hands still cupping Keith’s cheeks as he smiles. Keith smiles back. His eyes crinkle in the corners, the deep indigo shining through. It starts to snow and Lance relishes the moment.

 _This is happiness_ , he thinks before leaning back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after! (Never thought I would write that but here we are)
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope this was worth the wait! 
> 
> For those wondering, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=os4AdOvtHRA) is the song Lance is singing and [here](https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3362) is a english translation. 
> 
> If I've made any mistakes writing the Spanish please let me know and I'll correct them!


End file.
